


i'm locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me

by serenitysea



Series: i'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Skyeward, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where skye starts assassinating people like it's going out of style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me

**Author's Note:**

> MAKE IT STOP PLEASE.

they go after quinn first. 

  
it's not too big of a leap — considering skye has a frightening amount of intelligence in her head and the voices to guide her where she should go — and really, quinn had it coming.  
  
but what's possibly more interesting is _how_ they go about it.  
  
*  
  
skye likes fire.  
  
no, scratch that.  
  
skye _loves_ fire.  
  
they tell her _fire is flamboyant and overly destructive_  
  
and  
  
_it really doesn't leave much by way of subtlety, darling._  
  
  
skye just shrugs unconcernedly and restlessly flickers the lighter in her hand. "it's beautiful. there's something poetic about setting fire to everything that bastard holds dear."  
  
ward can't hear what the voices say back but judging by the sour look on her face, it probably is something he would agree with.  
  
  
*  
  
in greece, they turn his private island to a seashore of ashes. vienna has scorch marks for weeks and paper white flakes raining from the sky, despite it being the dead of summer. in prague, they level his historical residence with a flamethrower and watch the flickering across the river with popcorn.  
  
("how did you manage to get this? it's still hot."  
  
"i know a guy."  
  
"…did you —"  
  
"— _no_ , i didn't kill him."  
  
"— because normally you tend to —"  
  
"— oh stop, it was _one time_ , and honestly he deserved it —"  
  
"— he hardly knew you hated tabasco sauce, skye."  
  
"whatever. can't you just enjoy your popcorn quietly? the lengths i go to take you on a proper date and now you're lecturing me about morality. way to ruin the mood."  
  
"…this is a _date_?"  
  
"like giving you a _plane_ and going all over the world _isn't_ a giant declaration of my intentions?"  
  
"we need to _talk_ about your intentions."  
  
"later. watch, here comes the best part — that back corner is about to — WOOO _did you see that_ — the whole thing, straight up in flames!")  
  
  
and in istanbul—  
  
  
("skye, wait, that's extremely flammable and very dangerous —"  
  
"— _duh_ , silly. why do you think i _chose_ it in the first place?")  
  
  
— in istanbul, well. they just light a match.  
  
*  
  
quinn meets them in the snowy barren landscape of the wilderness that is russia.    
  
he tromps down from his plane and scoffs angrily at the bus, rolling his eyes and gesturing wildly. "i should have known coulson's team was behind this. a little dramatic, even for coulson, but really. who else would go to such lengths to destroy my property?"  
  
skye unfolds from where she is leaning casually against landing gear. when she straightens up and walks into the light, quinn starts laughing.  
  
"look at you. little baby badass. all you need is pink dress and a —"  
  
two shots echo like screams in the dead of night.  
  
there is a bullet in his head and a bullet in his heart. whatever he was going to say has been rudely interrupted but skye hardly looks concerned.  
  
"he talks too much," she explains, casting a single backward glance before heading back up the ramp.  
  
ward stares at the blood seeping from quinn's body and how it stains bright red against the snow, like the purest of rubies in a sea of diamond white brilliance. it's almost hard to look away.  
  
he hears skye arguing with the voices and then the sounds of the bus coming back to life as the engines kick on and scrambles into motion before she leaves him behind.  
  
(not that he thinks she would. but sometimes when the voices take control and he's out of the picture for a while, he begins to doubt his importance to her.)  
  
*  
  
when skye is twirling around on one of the stools in the kitchen, he clears his throat to get her attention.  
  
"whoa." she stops spinning abruptly and has to put a hand out for balance. "always bringin' me back to earth."  
  
he chooses not to comment on that loaded statement and dips his head to look directly in her eyes. "where are we headed next?"  
  
she laughs, bright and tinkling, as if what he's asking is so absurd it just tickles her straight into next year. "like you don't know."  
  
ward rubs at his eyebrow in frustration. "i _don't_."  
  
skye sobers and bites her lip in apology. "sorry. i forgot you're not —" she gestures at her head vaguely "— in on this."  
  
he doesn't press for more details because skye will give them when she is good and ready and honestly — there isn't really anyone else to talk to since she'd destroyed all the communication and tracking devices on their first day aboard.  
  
somewhere between the fifth bite of his sandwich and her second can of soda (which he regrets _so much_ because she is _unlivable_ with that much caffeine and sugar running through her bloodstream), she hums audibly and brightens. "talbot, of course."  
  
ward turns to her in curiosity. " _general_ talbot?"  
  
she nods, a beaming smile on her face. "he's just… _so_ awful. it's like we're really doing the world a favor."  
  
*  
  
talbot gets away.  
  
the man is a brigadier general; which roughly translates to skye having to actually _work_ to keep him in once place long enough to kill him.  
  
she exhales loudly in frustration. "this is not as fun as he thinks it is."  
  
ward glances down and out the window to see talbot trapped under one of the heavy wheels, frantically trying to free himself in vain. "i don't know that he thinks it's fun."  
  
"of _course_ he does, silly." she hops up on the table and leans her elbow against the wall so that she too, can peer out the window at the struggling man. "guys like that live for the _hard call_ and the _tough situation_. they get more shiny gold bars on their chest when they survive."  
  
when she remotely closes the cargo bay from her tablet and the engines begin humming with power, it's pretty clear that talbot's survival rate has just alarmingly diminished.  
  
"buh- _bye_ ," she waves to talbot (and there is no way that he can see her — just like there is no way for ward to hear the sickening crunch his body makes when the wheels move forward and over his body, pulverizing it instantly.)  
  
ward doesn't feel the need to point out that they could have taken off without taxiing down the strip of land (they both know the bus has unparalleled vertical flight capabilities) because it would smother that spark of joy in her eyes. and it's that spark that throws him back to the days when would she call him t-1000. he doesn't have the heart to make it fade away. it's selfish, but he wants to keep that around as long as possible.  
  
she curls up to where he is seated on the couch and rests her head on his shoulder. "time for a nap."  
  
she's out in less than a minute and ward is somehow combing his fingers through the tangles in her hair. she doesn't wake up even when he gets caught on a particularly nasty snarl and he holds his breath as she tucks her head neatly under his chin.  
  
he reaches for her tablet and puts the bus into full autopilot mode and finally closes his eyes.  
  
*  
  
"maynard."  
  
at the sound of his brother's name, ward drops his hands from the heavy bag. his body is stiff with worry. "what about him?"  
  
"he hurt you."  
  
"it's… not that simple."  
  
she shakes her head darkly. "yes, it is. and i don't like him."  
  
"we don't even know where he is and —"  
  
she smiles darkly. "oh yes. _we_ do."  
  
ward goes unnaturally still. "what are you saying?"  
  
"i think it's time we paid big brother a visit." she strips off her hoodie and joins him at the heavy bag, and her form is all lethal grace and danger. ward has a hard enough time tearing his eyes away from her on a fairly regular basis — like this she is something like kryptonite. "you saved me, so i'm going to save you. that's how this works."  
  
*  
  
maynard is arrogant enough to choose a palatial estate not far from where they used to live.  
  
ward doesn't have much to go on other than the ice in his blood when skye looks at him with an almost manic delight on her face and skips down the cargo ramp in excitement.  
  
there are dark circles under her eyes (the kind that usually mean she's been up all night fighting with the voices in her head) but she doesn't allow to even slow her down. she's on a mission and she knows what she wants and he doesn't have the power to stop her.  
  
not in this.  
  
not when there's some part of him that wants it, too. (a horrible, dark twisted part of him that hides behind how he can't even fathom what it's going to be like seeing his brother face to face after all these years.)  
  
because skye is not one for subtlety, she has hung onto her beloved flamethrower—  
  
("it's _so pretty_ when the fire comes out. just like dragon's breath, except so much _better_.")  
  
— and pretty much _melts_ the front door where it stands.  
  
ward knows maynard has to have seen them coming and distantly wonders why he hasn't come to greet them at the curving wide staircase in the foyer. his attention is diverted when skye shakes her head angrily and mutters, "no. i'm doing this and you _can't_ stop me."  
  
she keens loudly in pain and doubles over, clutching her head. "back _off_ , i've got this!"  
  
and he knows that something is not quite right.  
  
naturally this is the time when shots are fired over their heads and he looks up to see maynard looking disturbing capable of murder (as if he had ever looked anything _but_ ), standing at the top of the stairs with a gun in his hand. "well hello there, little brother. long time no see."  
  
and ward is frozen.  
  
he wants to help skye — and at this point, she's down to her knees fighting against the voices in her head — but he also can't seem to tear his eyes away from the living nightmare that has haunted him all these years. he can't move but he can't move away. it's like someone has injected a toxin in his body and rendered him incapable of movement. he has front row tickets to the horror that is about to unfold _and_ somehow he's been cast as the lead in a tragic play he never wanted a part of.  
  
*  
  
she's on _fire_.  
  
it hurts and the voices are _so_ angry with her.  
  
_you are not allowed to do this. i will not **allow** you to become unclean by associating with this filth. he is not worthy of the honor of death at your hand._  
  
she wants to fight it but there's white hot agony ripping through her veins and ward is too far away to block the voices out.  
  
_despite trying to do the right thing, dear, your father is right. this cretin does not deserve the glory of a new beginning through death. just listen to us on this one. leave the young man behind._  
  
"i'm not leaving him," skye grits through her teeth — and for a second, _just_ a second, it's like battleship and training and shaving cream on faces and supply closets and kisses all over again. she can _taste_ it. it feels like someone else's life, far far away. she thinks of that girl and it swallows her alive.  
  
_you have leave me no choice. you will regret this, my daughter._  
  
there is an awful choking sound from above.  
  
when she looks up, maynard is clutching at his throat as some invisible attacker cuts off his air supply. ward stares, transfixed; like a man who has suddenly received a new religion.  
  
she summons up the power to push herself closer to him and knows how weak she is in this moment and _hates_ it. " _ward_."  
  
"skye." he rips his attention away and reaches for her and _oh_ —  
  
she can breathe again. the fire in her veins abates and there are gasping sweet lungfuls of air once again coursing through her ribs and she has those powerful arms around her and she knows _knows **knows**_.  
  
with him, she _cannot_ fail.  
  
the voices are silent once more and she puts a hand up to his cheek. "are you with me?"  
  
death is before them —  above them — and behind them. there is some kind of freedom attached to this life that he's never had before. the new religion he'd found isn't new at all. it's her, because it's _always_ been her.  
  
"until the end of the world," ward says, pulling her closer to his chest.  
  
the faint sounds of police sirens begin to wail in the distance and her lips curl up in contentment. "i was hoping you'd say that."  
  
she shuts her eyes and he carries her away and she makes a vow.  
  
_i'm coming for you, daddy. you'd better watch out_.  
  
there is a horrible vicious laugh in the back of her mind; the kind that sends icy chills skittering down her spine. it shouldn't be able to reach her while ward is holding her tight but she'd opened the connection and now it cannot be shut off.  
  
_oh, my precious daughter. i'm **counting** on it_.  
  
*  
  



End file.
